On the Verge of Insanity
by Timore Nocturnus Caelum
Summary: Movie-deviation. Astrid never got the chance to give Hiccup a pep talk, leaving him to stand on the wooden platform alone. Hiccup finally snaps and leaves Berk on board a boat, vowing never to return.
1. I'm Not One of Them

**On the Verge of Insanity: The Chronicles of Fate  
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**Story Tagline:** _You would do anything if you have been pushed to the limit._

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I do not own 'How to Train Your Dragon' nor Dreamworks, and that is pretty obvious, considering that I even bothered putting the word 'Disclaimer' up here.

G'day, mates!

This is just a What-If set during the events from 'The Kill Ring' through to 'Ready the Ships'. After that, it will be where the real deviation begins. It begins at the end of this chapter.

'The Kill Ring' is perhaps the hardest part to write about. There was so much action going on, but I tried my very best.

Chapter rating is 'T' due to slight violence and scenes of a distressing nature. Parental guidance is advised.

Thank you for your time.

**Update: **I have removed the chapter 'Voyage of the Damned'. Upon reviewing it myself, I find that it was a little too tiring to read and a little odd.

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><p><strong>Chapter One: I'm Not One of Them<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter Tagline: <strong>_Viking Rule #1: Follow the crowd... or die._

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><p>"I'm <em>not<em> one of them."

It was a final, decisive statement made by a small, frail Viking who was good at nothing. He had been misunderstood, mistreated, underestimated, despised, detested. In the eyes of his village, he was just a runt. A good-for-nothing. He was bullied for Odin knows how long. Considered useless, nobody had any confidence in whatever he does. He often messed up during dragon raids and even claimed to have shot down a legendary Night Fury out of the sky; a feat that had never before been done by a Viking, much less a micro-Viking. Until recently, he proved to be, well, a hiccup. The crowd had been watching in anticipation of bloodshed. In this case, the blood-donor would be a Nightmare. Literally.

Considered one of the most deadliest breed of dragons, the Monstrous Nightmare should never be approached unless by a veteran dragon-busting Viking. There stood Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, part-time blacksmith apprentice and full-time screw-up, it seemed to be an easy meal for the Nightmare, which was at least twenty times the size of the human, complete with five inch canines, eleven inch razor sharp claws, a tail lined with spikes, and a deadly blast of kerosene flame. This was obviously a win-win situation for the dragon. However, the villagers knew that Hiccup had a trick up his sleeve, he always had, and they thought that this was just prelude. They tensed up in excitement and anticipation as the showdown progressed. At first, the boy rendered himself defenceless by disarming himself. Then, he tried talking to the dragon. The villagers thought that that was weird. But they waited for the moment when Hiccup would pull off an Odin-level trick that would knock out the dragon. All their hopes began to plunge when Hiccup took his horned helmet off its place of honor on his head.

Then he flung it onto the floor.

_Clatter!_

Every single person in the spectatorial stands were stunned by this sudden, rash move made by the Viking. Was the boy crazy? People covered their mouths with their hands. People cringed. People shook their heads in denial and dismay. Even Stoick the Vast stood up from his granite throne to get a clearer view of what was happening. Even when he got the view, he was still in denial. How could his son do that? They had a deal. He had given his only son his wife's helmet. And he throws it on the floor! What the hell was that about. Stoick's fist clenched around the handle of his stone mallet. Something definitely was wrong. And he said the only thing that he could have uttered out after partially recovering from the initial shock.

"Stop the fight."

Hiccup needed to stop. He needed to come up here and explain everything to his father. He needed to stop this madness.

_I'll deal with that troublemaker later._

"No!" Hiccup announced. He had managed to get this far in terms of calming down the Nightmare and he wasn't going to let his efforts go down the drain. He needed this opportunity to bring to light the truth. He needed this to make his villagers see. To let his father understand that dragons, aren't as bad as they were rumored to be. They were just mere slaves of a much more horrible monster. If they weren't threatened, they could be gentle creatures. Just as what Toothless had shown himself to be. They were just misunderstood creatures. Just like him.

"I need you all to see this."

The Nightmare approached the boy carefully. It did not know what that Viking could do. Although the small, petite boy had disarmed himself and gotten rid of that helmet, he could still prove to be a dangerous threat, so it wasn't going to let its guard down anytime soon.

"They're not what we think they are." Hiccup said as he extended his left hand in an attempt to touch the Nightmare's snout. He knew that he would have to take it slowly. To gain the Nightmare's trust just like how he gained Toothless's trust. He knew that this was not going to be easy, but he still had to do it. He wanted to be the change. He _needed _to be the change. The future of Berk, and the fate of everything and everyone he knew and loved rested on his shoulders. It was a daunting task, but he had to do it, because no one else knew the truth.

"We don't have to kill them."

The Nightmare got closer, sizing up the boy. A slight murmur passed through the crowd. They all agreed that the boy had gone nuts. No one ever wanted to spare a dragon's life. Even more so when it is about to eat you. That would be suicide. Stoick had told them to stop the fight. But yet the boy did not seem to be in any mortal peril. Should they? Or should they not? They turned in the direction of Stoick the Vast. The crowd was confused, and waited for the village chief to act. They did not have to wait long, for the next moment, the chief took out his mallet and slammed it down, full force, on the metal grille that encompassed the Kill Ring.

"I SAID, STOP THE FIGHT!"

CLANG!

The sheer force of the impact bent the metal grille and generated a sharp clanging noise that reverberated throughout the establishment. Bad move. For everything that transpired within the next minute forever changed the lives of a father, a son, a dragon, and an entire tribe.

The Monstrous Nightmare reacted almost instantly to the noise. Its pupils contracted into slits and it went on full-alert. In its mind, the boy standing in front of it was nothing more than a threat. And it reacted instinctively to the "threat".

It snapped its jaws at the boy.

Hiccup had to scramble off to his right side to avoid being shredded into pieces. It was a close call, but he wasn't sure if he'd survive for long. He let out a yelp and pumped his legs faster. Just as he thought that he had out run the dragon, a stream of sticky fire missed him by mere inches. He could feel the heat singing his hair but he did not care. He had to run. Far away from the dragon. There was only one escape route: the entrance gate. However, it was blocked by double steel gates.

_Please let me out._

In his desperation, he let out a scream. Why wasn't anyone doing anything? Stoick was still standing there, looking down at the commotion. His brain was in dead lock. He could only stare in disbelief at his son, who was trying to avoid being chomped on by a hundred pound dragon.

Hiccup continued running around. He reached the enclosure area and was forced to turn in the other direction to avoid knocking into them. A loud clanging noise told him that the Nightmare was hot on his trail. He did not even bother looking back. Doing just that would only slow him down and increase his chances of being caught between those claws. Landing on the marble floor with a dull thud, the dragon pursued its prey, driven by fear and anger. It nearly got Hiccup with one of its sharp claws, making a nice incision on his back. The boy cringed and nearly fell, but kept his balance. Blood started blossoming from the wound and pain shot right up. He wondered how long he would last just by running around. If the dragon were to continue scratching his back, he'd probable die from blood loss.

"Out of my way." Stoick declared, shoving aside a few Vikings and making his way to the entrance gate. The sight of blood seemed to have cleared his mind and he was now able to think straight. He needed to save his son, right now. Any other issues, he'd deal with them later on.

"Hiccup!" shouted Astrid as she pounded against the iron gates. She might have been a strong Viking, but she certainly wasn't strong enough to life a one thousand pound gate. Stoick may have been coming down to save his son, but Astrid feared that by that time, Hiccup'd be dead. So she did something out of instinct.

She grabbed the nearest axe that was hanging by the wall.

Astrid had brains. She certainly did know the basic working principles of a lever. Though not as good as Hiccup, she still was able to create a simple lever that would enable her to lift the gate with little effort.

Placing the metallic end of the axe at the seam underneath the gate, she placed her hands on the other side of the axe and pushed with all her might. The gate was lifted up a little, supported by the axe, it created a small opening at the bottom of it, just enough room for flexible Astrid to get through. She slid in through the opening and propelled herself out of the seam using her hands. She had to save her Hiccup. And when Astrid has her mind set on something, she never gives up.

Hiccup was still running in circles, trying to flee from the terrifying monster. Another blast of fire missed Hiccup's head by inches. He had to duck in order to get out of harms way. Adrenaline gave the boy strength he never before knew. Scrambling to the weapons rack at top speed, he yanked a shield off its restraints. That would prove to be of little use, for the Monstrous Nightmare slammed into the wooden rack, splintering it and sending Hiccup on a trajectory towards the wall. He crashed into it, but luckily, the shield absorbed most of the impact. He recovered quickly, thanks to adrenaline, and dumped the shield. Cuts and lacerations lined his face, arms and legs, courtesy of the splintered rack, but the pain seemed nonexistent.

Another blast of fire missed its intended target and clung onto the iron gates to the enclosures. It made a sizzling noise on impact. Stoick had finally reached the outer iron barrier and lifted it up with one huge heave. The amount of force must have jammed the pulleys, for the gate remained opened after that.

"Hiccup!" Astrid cried out again as the Nightmare made another laceration on Hiccup's back. It was no good. And Astrid went into battle mode. She ran to the pile of wooden splinters that was once a weapon rack and grabbed the stone mallet. Actually, she kicked it into the air using her foot and grabbed it by its handle. She did a complete three-sixty and used the momentum to propel the mallet unto the Nightmare's snout. It found its mark and made a nasty cracking noise. The mallet clattered onto the floor and disappeared into the open enclosure. Shaking its head, the Nightmare brought both good news and bad news. Good news was, it had decided to spare Hiccup and go for Astrid instead.

Bad news was, it had decided to spare Hiccup and go for Astrid instead.

Growling in anger and frustration, the Nightmare charged in the Viking girl's direction, catching her by surprise. She let out a gasp of surprise tinged with a little fear and ran round the pile of splinters, with the Nightmare speeding after her. It was at that time that Stoick finally reached the second iron gate and hoisted it upwards. He had created an escape route for the two young Vikings already. Now, it was a matter of getting them out of the ring before the Nightmare does.

"This way!" he shouted in an attempt to get their attention, waving his hand as an emphasis.

Another stream of fire found its way out of the dragon's mouth and it missed Astrid. She made a full speed sprint towards Stoick. She was first to get there and Stoick held her back with his hand. Hiccup saw that there was an entrance and ran in that direction too. He was hoping that the adrenaline would keep him running and that the dragon would be dumb enough to continue chasing him.

Turns out that dragons were not at all, dumb.

The Nightmare was down to its last shot, and it was a shot well spent. A blast of fire found its way to the side of the entrance gate, spraying the deadly liquid all over the place. Stoick and Astrid had to jump out of the way and Hiccup was forced to make a U-turn. The dragon dug its claws into the marble wall and utilized it as a springboard to propel itself to its prey.

This time, the dragon's calculations were correct.

Something heavy landed on Hiccup's back and he felt pain centered on his upper back and left arm. He could feel the warm liquid that was blood trickling down his arm and onto the floor. The force knocked him onto the floor and he hit his head. It took him a while to regain his eyesight, but when he did, he wished he hadn't.

He was facing a row of razor sharp teeth. Teeth that were specifically designed for ripping flesh. The teeth of a Monstrous Nightmare. The crowd was muttering things, but he could not make out what they were saying as his hearing was still screwed up from the concussion. His head hurt and he only knew one thing: his headache was going to end soon. The Nightmare had a nasty grin plastered on its snout. One that it gives its prey only when they are about to get devoured. And Hiccup was sure that he was going to be joining the countless of sheep that had died due to this dragon. He had failed in his mission to tell the truth about dragons, all because of his father and his knack for attracting trouble.

_I'm sorry, everyone._

Hiccup resigned to fate and closed his eyes. He knew that his death was going to come, and he hoped that it would come quickly. Had Toothless been feeling the same way when Hiccup was about to kill him? The hopelessness and the feeling of despair. No wonder he was so pissed after getting released. He was going to miss that funny face of his dragon's and the screech that he knew so well.

Wait a minute… was that a screech?

Even amongst all the muttering and commotion, one noise stood out. It seemed to have emanated from everywhere. Yet, something about that was wrong. _They_ did not attack during the daytime, _they_ only attacked during the night. Even so, the crowd went silent, listening to that noise struck fear in their hearts. Why had _it_ decided to join the Eat Hiccup session?

Gobber raised his head and looked in the direction of the noise.

Then _it_ showed _itself._

The Night Fury was a blur. Rising up from beneath the raised platform, _it_ soared to a certain height before darting straight for the metal cage called the Kill Ring. The Vikings standing just below _it_ just realized that _it_ was there and quickly dived out of its flight trajectory. A final screech of anger and a blue fireball made itself known.

The metal grilles that had been there a fraction of a second ago had been vaporized by the explosion. A whirlwind of blue flames proceeded the main explosion and expanded outwards in all directions. A few unlucky remaining Vikings were scorched by the heat and all of them let out yelps of pain just as the black blur disappeared into the smoke-filled arena. It took a second before the crowd could process what had just happened.

A Night Fury had just entered the Kill Ring with Hiccup still inside.

"Somebody help him!"

Through the smoke, Hiccup could not see anything, only that he felt the Nightmare's claws being pulled out of the ground and there were some thudding noises. Curious Vikings ran closer to the metal grilles and started talking amongst themselves. A loud, agonized roar ensued before the two dragons came out of the smoke and made themselves known.

A few Vikings gasped at the sight. Not because the dragons were fighting, but because this was the first time anyone had ever seen a Night Fury up close. The first time in seven generations. Gobber managed to regain his bearings and, using the metal grille as a support, said,

"_Night Fury._"

The two fighters twisted and landed kicks on each other. Toothless was on the top of the Nightmare and the latter tried frantically to bite the former. It finally managed to turn the tables by propelling itself into the air and twisting its body mid-air, flinging the Fury off its back and landing on the ground on to of it. The Nightmare currently had the upper hand. But the Night Fury wasn't done. Scratching the Nightmare on its snout, Toothless finally managed to distract the Nightmare enough to grab it by the sides of its head and twisting it around. As a natural response, the Nightmare's body went limp in fear of breaking its neck from the exertion of force. With the Nightmare temporarily disabled, Toothless was able to use his powerful leg muscles to launch the red dragon into the air. It landed on the other side of the ring and continued snarling. The Fury crouched low on his four paws, ready to defend his rider.

Inching closer to his rider, Toothless trained his eyes on the Nightmare, his pupils turning into silts and he snarled even louder. The Nightmare made a few attempts to get at Hiccup, but were all thwarted by Toothless, who just pounced into the required position and snap his jaws right in front of the Nightmare's snout. Eventually, he let out a roar and emphasized it with a swipe of his paw. That seemed to have done the trick, for the Nightmare let out a snarl of fear and backed away from the black dragon, clearly intimidated.

Hiccup, who had been sitting on the floor behind his dragon watching the entire fight, had regained enough of his senses to know that they were already in deep trouble, both with his tribe and his father. It was not everyday that you see a Night Fury popping into the Kill Ring. How did Toothless get here without any aid, Hiccup did not know. Perhaps he would never know the answer. Now, he had only one thing in his mind. Get Toothless out of here and out fast. Or his dragon would risk getting disemboweled by his mad, dragon-slaying tribe. It seemed like a pretty easy choice. Except that the crowd had already gone berserk.

"GET IT!"

Vikings started dropping into the arena through the gaps in the metal grilles. It was sheer madness. Everyone wanted to kill, dismember and disembowel the demon that had plagued their village for centuries. Hatred coursed through their veins. That, combined with pure fury, forced them to approach the thing they had feared for so long without hesitation. If there was one thing the Vikings hated, it was a dragon who flew free.

"Toothless, get out of here. _Now!_" Hiccup urged. There was no use, no matter how hard he pushed against that snout, he could not get that dragon to budge. There was no getting out of this anymore. His adrenaline seemed to have worn off and now that the danger was over, he started to feel the pain. He had to bite his lips to keep himself from screaming.

To make matters worse, Stoick also wanted to disembowel his dragon.

Grabbing an axe from the wall, the huge Viking chieftain charged for the black, murderous beast.

"Stoick, no!" Astrid shouted.

"No! Dad! He won't hurt you!" Hiccup screamed.

Toothless seemed to have noticed that a Viking was present in his periperhal vision and let out a low, warning growl. When Stoick did not comply, the Fury decided to take matters into his own paws.

He charged straight for the red, murderous human.

With an almost expert-level muscle coordination, Toothless batted one Viking aside with his front left paw, and another with his hind paw. A final swipe of his tail downed five Vikings in one go. All that happened in less than one second.

"No, don't! You're only making it worse!" Hiccup shouted, feeling helpless.

He leapt into the air and caught Stoick with his front paws. The forward momentum sent the both of them on a pin roll. When they came to a stop, Toothless had Stoick pinned under his paws. The dragon had won out in the end and was preparing to roast Hiccup's father like they did with roasting chickens. His father's axe lay out of reach and all that Hiccup could do was to watch in horror and say, "Toothless, stop!"

Stoick continued to struggle in an attempt to throw off the mass that was pinning him to the ground. In the end, he decided to give up struggling and stared straight into the toxic, green eyes. The Fury opened its jaws and concentrated his fuel-mist in a cavity at the back of his mouth. So this is how it is going to end. Stoick the Vast dies by a Night Fury. At least he died an honorable death.

"No." Hiccup breathed.

The Night Fury refused to comply and continued feeding gas into his mouth cavity. Any second now and Stoick's face would be blasted into oblivion.

"NOOO!"

Hiccup did not know what gave him the power to shout that out but he did. It seemed to have done the trick and the dragon swallowed the gas in a strangled yelp. Turning in his rider's direction, he gave Hiccup a sorrowful moan. The dragon had hesitated, and now, _he_ was in mortal peril. A fatal mistake, no doubt.

"Get him!" someone shouted.

A heavy punch was landed on Toothless's snout and he shook his head to clear it. He did not have the time to recover and react before a sharp object made contact with him, splattering blood on the floor. Moaning in pain, Toothless loosened his grip on the Viking chief and he was able to get free, allowing the Vikings to pin the Night Fury down on the floor. One man might not have done the trick, but seven adult Vikings certainly did. The Fury struggled to throw off the suffocating mass but couldn't. The Vikings were too strong and they won.

"No, no, no! Please not hurt him! Please just don't hurt him."

Hiccup tried frantically to reach for his dragon, who was under a pile of human, but was held back by Astrid. No matter how hard he strained, he could not break free of Astrid's iron grip. Now they were screwed. _Seriously screwed_.

Stoick stumbled a little as he got up. Toothless groaned and tried to shake off the Viking that was forcing his jaw down, but failed. He gave up trying. There was no point in it anymore. The battle was lost but at least he had saved Hiccup. Stoick turned around to face his attacker. Meanwhile, more Vikings flooded into the Ring and formed a circle around the human pile. Another group of Vikings were leading the Monstrous Nightmare back into its enclosure.

"_Toothless!_" Hiccup screamed. He could not help it. The more he struggled, the harder Astrid resisted. Finally, he resigned to fate and just hung in Astrid's hands, his hands outstretched. A Viking walked up to Stoick and offered him an axe.

"You do the honors." he said.

Toothless eyes and Stoick's eyes met for a fraction of a second, and Stoick had made a decision. Pushing aside the offer for the axe, he announced,

"Put it with the others."

The Vikings complied immediately. The Terrible Terror's enclosure had recently been vacated since its original tenant had died a day ago, so the Vikings restraint Toothless's snout with a simple belt around it and shoved him into the dark enclosure for the time being. The frantic cries of the dragon could still be heard even after the door was closed. After some time, the noise was reduced to slight whimpers. No one cared about that. They just thought that the demon deserved it.

Stoick was barking orders to the nearest Vikings again.

"You! Clean up the mess around here! And you! Get that breach fixed!"

Spitelout moved up to Stoick and whispered in his ear, "What are you going to do with that beast?"

"Kill it. At midnight, we'll kill it. Slowly. Everyone will take part in that." Stoick seethed. Then he added, "After I'm done with _someone_…" he looked at Hiccup. "I'll be back."

Stoick walked up to where Astrid was standing and snatched Hiccup away from her by the scruff of his neck. Hiccup knew that he was doomed. He had broken the Viking law and is going to be punished severely for it. Being exiled or facing horrendous torture would be a huge privilege. At the very best, the worst thing that could happen to him was the death penalty. He had committed a heinous crime by protecting, riding, and harboring a dragon. He was, in all aspects, doomed. Stoick's manhandling was an example of that.

It was a long drag. Stoick dragged his son along the wooden bridges, across grass patches, across rough brick roads, and across sandy paths. It was torturous. He already sustained injuries to his leg while being attacked by the Monstrous Nightmare and this dragging was making it worse. The village was silent as everyone had been assembled at the Kill Ring to watch a killing that had never happened. Pain surged through his knee as the cuts get rubbed by the ground, leaving a trail of blood behind. Hiccup was being dragged by his hand, with Stoick in the front, that meant that the lower half of his leg was always in contact with the ground. Very painful.

They reached the Meade Hall after a ten minute walk (drag). By that time, Hiccup's knees were injured so badly that the pieces of flesh were hanging limply off the wound. Hiccup was disgusted by that, but Stoick wasn't done. He righted Hiccup, which inflicted serious pain, and flung him at the door, the momentum of which was enough to force it open. Hiccup stumbled and fell onto the ground, but managed to get himself up. He turned to face his furious father. Everything he had done until ten minutes ago was to hide the secret of hiding and befriending a dragon from his father. Now, with the secret out, he was going to be killed by his father. The tall Viking chief loomed over the smaller, frailer one. He continued walking forwards, closing the huge oaken door behind him, leaving only a small gap in between the doors to allow a little light.

"I should have known. I should have seen the signs." Stoick mumbled. Hiccup walked along with his dad, though his dad was walking way to fast for him.

"Dad?"

"We had a deal!" Stoick shouted. After all those weeks, Hiccup had been operating on lies? On tricks? To win the attention of the village and use it as an opportunity to unleash mass destruction?

"I know we did. But that was before, I… _ohh,_ its all so messed up."

"So everything in the ring, a trick?" Stoick thrust his finger at Hiccup and turned away just as he said, "A lie?" He started to walk deeper into the Meade Hall, leaving Hiccup in the light. He decided to do some damage control before the situation got out of hand. And it really was getting out of hand.

"I screwed up. I should have told you before now. I just… you just…" Hiccup stammered. He hated it when he was stammering towards the end of his sentences. It was irritating and he did not like it one bit. He needed to tell his father that dragon's aren't that dangerous, but that was pretty hard, especially when you have a hundred pound dangerous Viking that could break you into half.

"Take this out on me, be mad at me, but please, just don't hurt Toothless." he said lamely.

At the mention of the word 'Toothless', Stoick whipped around and berated Hiccup.

"The dragon? _That's _what you're worried about?Not the people you almost killed?"

Hiccup argued his point that Toothless was not at all dangerous, just merely an overprotective guardian dragon, "He… he was just protecting me! He's not dangerous."

"They've killed _hundreds of us!_" Stoick hollered, his voice echoing throughout the vast expanse of the hall.

"And we've killed _thousands of them!_" argued Hiccup in an equally loud volume. "They _defend_ themselves, that's all! They raid us because they have to."

Stoick have had enough of the annoying little boy and waved his hand in a sort of dismissing gesture, turning around and staring into the darkness, pacing as he did so.

"If they don't bring enough food back, they'll be eaten themselves. There's something else on their island, dad. It's a dragon like…"

Stoick stopped pacing as soon as he heard the word 'island'. He whipped around to face his son with a definite aura of seriousness about him. Both of them stared into each other's eyes. Stoick's stare bored into the small Viking boy, making him feel very uncomfortable.

"So, you've been to the nest?" he whispered in a low, dangerous tone. Hiccup slowly inched away from his father as he was feeling very uncomfortable. He wanted to run out of the Meade Hall this very instance. His father was acting as if his son were a dragon, and that he wanted to kill the person who was standing right in front of him.

"Er, did I say nest?" Hiccup said. He lost the power to articulate the last word and it was heard as nothing more than a murmur. Stoick the Vast could not accept that as an answer and berated his son with another question. He needed to get to the bottom of the matter. How could a small, insignificant person be able to locate the elusive Dragon's Nest?

"How did you find it?" Stoick pressed. After centuries of searching, could the answer finally be here?

"No, er, I didn't. Toothless did. Only a dragon could find the nest." Hiccup's voice trailed off towards the end of his speech. A million thoughts were racing through Stoick's mind. Finding the Dragon's Nest was as simple as forcing a dragon to lead you there? How stupid was that? The chief made a mental note to bring that wretched Night Fury along on the expedition. Then, another piece of logic hit him in the head. It did not take long for him to put two and two together.

His son had been riding on a dragon. A Night Fury.

Hiccup had committed the ultimate act of betrayal. He had sold his trust to a dragon and protected it. He should be punished for his crime. Hiccup was no less than a criminal. A branded traitor to the Vikings. Such a crime was punishable by death, or exile, whichever comes first. After all he had done to help his son, to educate his son, to nurture him, he had betrayed them. He was no less than a dragon. And the boy had the cheek to talk some more.

"Oh no, dad. It's not what you think it is…" Hiccup began. It clearly wasn't getting the attention of the huge stocky man. He grunted and pushed the small boy aside as he walked towards the great oaken doors, headed for the harbor. He was going to end this silly war once and for all. He was going to barge into the Dragon's Nest, send them running, and mission accomplished. But this boy kept on pestering him, running alongside and tapping his arm.

"… you don't know what you're up against, dad. It's like nothing you've ever seen." he continued.

_Yeah, right. Like there's going to be anything much more dangerous than a Night Fury. After all, we have a chained-up one leading us to the den. After we are done with the mission, we'd disembowel the damned beast and incinerate his remains._

"No, dad." the small Viking breathed out. He picked up speed in order to keep up with his dad. He was going way too fast, and the damned injuries were slowing him down. The Viking chief ignored the boy and trudged on, going faster and faster with each step.

"No!"

Hiccup was desperate. Would his father just listen to him for once? Desperate times usually called for desperate measures, and Hiccup wasn't sure if this counted as a desperate time. He risked it and made one final lunge for his dad's left arm, grabbing onto it and he exhaled, in one go, a sentence that randomly formed in his head out of desperation.

"For once in your life, would you please just listen to me!"

He expected his father to react to his sudden desperate outburst. Instead, to his utmost surprise, Stoick the Vast flung his own son right off his arm. Hiccup hit the floor like a rag doll, stunned by this sudden, rash move. Had his own father thrown him onto the floor? It seemed like he did. When he did regain his senses and looked up to the man who had thrown him on the floor, Hiccup could not recognized the man's face. However, he was the very person who had given Hiccup his wife's horned helmet, the very person who supported him during the semi-finals yesterday. It all seemed like a billion years ago for the look on the man's face was not that of love, but that of disdain and hatred. When he spoke, it was in a bland and emotionless tone. Something that the chief specially reserved for doomed dragons.

"You've thrown your lot in with them. You're not a Viking."

Hiccup did not care at that point in time whether or not he was a Viking. All he wanted was for the man to love him, to care for him once again. He missed those good old days when he was just an infant without a care in the world. He just wanted a family. A father. A real father. The person who was called Stoick the Vast.

Whatever Stoick said next hurt Hiccup as if someone had run a knife through his heart.

"_You're not my son._"

A small tear welled up in the Viking chief's eyes. He wiped it off almost instantly and turned around to walk out of the hall, slamming the door behind him, leaving his only son in the dark.

"_Ready the ships!_" Stoick shouted the command to no one in particular. The village was still deserted but the chief wasn't thinking straight. Too many things had just happened during the past thirteen minutes. First, the Nightmare trick. Second, this… Toothless thing. Third, he exiled his own and only son. Fourth, he wanted to go on an expedition to the Dragon's Nest.

"Dad." Hiccup croaked weakly. He was already bleeding severely from various wounds located all over his body. He crawled along the floor, trying so desperately to reach for the silhouette of the man standing just beyond reach. So close, yet so far.

"Dad!" the boy called out, this time with much more strength and emotion. It was in fruition. Soon, the silhouette disappeared into the distance, and never before did Hiccup feel to alone in his life. This was the worst thing that was ever going to happen to him.

"No… dad."

He wanted to cry. He wanted to break down mentally. He wanted to sit there and cry a river for the entire span of the day. He knew that even the toughest Vikings would be no match at all for the gargantuan dragon that resided within the bowels of the volcano. And Toothless would not be of much help.

"Dad…"

He lost the energy and will to mutter anymore 'dads', so he fell silent. There was going to be no use crying right there and the. Anyway, he was already exiled, which meant that he needed to get out of this place before he'd get screwed by some guard or something. Since they were going on the Dragon's Nest search and destroy expedition, they'd all be assembled at the harbor in the next thirty minutes. Hiccup guessed that he should be standing nearby the harbor or somewhere near it. After years of scouting the area, he decided that he should stand on one of the raised wooden platforms that were built higher than any other structure in the harbor. That would give him a very good view on what was going on and to keep him safe from intrusion.

Off to the harbor then.

He picked himself up from the floor and he wobbled unsteadily on his two legs. When he finally got around to stabilizing his legs, he sneaked out through the oaken doors and proceeded in the direction of one of the cliffs surrounding the harbor. Perched halfway up the cliff was a wooden platform which will allow him a birds eye view of the harbor but keep him from being noticed. He was inconspicuously small already, so blending in would not be a big problem.

Meanwhile, Stoick and Spitelout were busy rallying the Vikings and organizing them back at the Kill Ring. They had been told that there was a way to find the Dragon's Nest and that it would require some manpower. There was an air of disagreement at first because no one believed that there would actually be a way to get to their desired destination. It took a little explanation, the job of which fell upon Stoick. It took a few more tries before they could convince the elder to actually allow them to use the Night Fury for this experiment. If this worked, it would mean the end of a centuries old conflict.

Ten minutes later, they were all gathered at the harbor. Men busied themselves with the tightening of sailing ropes, the organizing and distribution of various weapons and the organization of Vikings into different battle groups. They were organizing the last of the battle groups when they found that they were short of people on the twentieth boat. They could not afford to have lesser people in this final assault, but they had already run out of people. Stoick frowned, and wondered what they could do. Just then, Spitelout trotted up to Stoick and said, "Why not we use the teenagers? They have been training very well."

After due consideration, they finally decided that they should drag the teenagers along with them. They were of age and had performed reasonably well. That additional increase made up for the shortage of manpower on the twentieth boat and they were ready to set off. Actually not _yet_ ready because they were still missing one very important cargo.

The Night Fury.

"Get that damned beast over here!"

Catapults were being loaded onto the ships as well. After the last catapult came into the harbor through the gates, the last and most important cargo arrived on a huge wooden contraption that anchored Toothless to the, well, contraption. He was moved up a ramp that was coiled around a carved out granite structure and right at the top was huge wooden crane that was operated by two, huge, muscular Vikings. However, this was not their usual cargo of catapults. This time, it was a dragon. A Night Fury. Getting the chains on wasn't easy. The Night Fury was constantly rattling on his restraints and they were forced to clamp a huge wooden clamp around his neck as an added precaution. After they had secured the wooden contraption to the crane, the Viking gave the 'go' signal and the wheel was turned, slowly lifting the contraption up into the air. The Night Fury shook violently against the metal bolts, generating clanging noises that was painful to the ear. The village elder, who was watching from one of the wooden jetties, pulled her grandchildren closer to her as a gesture of comfort.

The load was finally deposited unto the boat where Stoick was standing on. The last bit of equipment had been loaded and they were ready to leave for Hellheim's Gate. The high-tension anchor ropes were severed and the boats drifted with the wind, all of them en route for the Dragon's Nest.

"Set sail! We head for Hellheim's Gate!" Stoick announced. He turned around to face the harbor after finishing that sentence and made eye contact with the one person he did not wish to see at this moment.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock was standing on the raised wooden platform.

The both of them locked eyes with each other. Stoick felt a tinge of guilt and regret, while Hiccup was feeling sorrowful. Determined to focus on the task at hand, Stoick adverted his gaze from his former son and turned to face the damned beast. He stared at it with utmost hatred.

"Lead us home, _devil_." He spat with venom and disdain. The chief was determined to make Toothless's last hours on Earth miserable. He would first make its last hours miserable, then when it was time to kill the beast, he would slowly break its bones, starting from its legs and working his way up to the skull. The best thing that could happen to the beast is that he'd lose consciousness due to the pain because drowning in one's own blood is a horrible way to die.

The fleet of ships disappeared into the horizon an hour later, leaving Hiccup in a very empty harbor. He felt lonely. Astrid, Snotlout, the twins and Fishlegs had been forced on board those ships and get sent off to an unknown destination. He missed Astrid. He missed Stoick. He missed Toothless and just about everyone else. He wasn't even sure if he would ever see his friends again. Or Toothless. Or his father. His old father.

It was, at best, described as a suicide mission. No one could ever compete with a behemoth that size. Hiccup doubted if Toothless would be able to down that beast. This was going to be a very long wait, if they ever returned.

What had he done to deserve this? Sure, he'd mess up sometime during dragon raids but isn't that humiliating enough already? Why did the gods have to land him in this pitiful situation? Why did they chose to harass a weakling? Are the gods really that cruel? Now he had lost everything. His father, his tribe, his best friend. How did things get so screwed up? What had went wrong? Perhaps this was just destiny. Perhaps things were fated to be this way. There was nothing he could be able to do to stop destiny.

He was slowly losing his mind, having stared at the glistening water and self-reflecting on his bad luck for nearly an hour. A million thoughts were racing through his mind. He felt like committing suicide, yet that would be extremely irresponsible. Not only will that prove that Hiccup Horrendous Haddock is a weakling, it will also prove that he only wants to take the easy way out of the mess that he had created.

It was all Toothless's fault. It was all the dragon's fault. Why? He did not know. It just felt very comfortable to have someone whom you could push all the blame to. If that wretched dragon did not even show up or get born in the first place then this would not have happened. All this was courtesy of Toothless. Stupid dragon. Damn him and his overprotectiveness. He could have just stayed at the cove and left the job of defeating the Nightmare to Stoick. Stupid, disobedient, despicable trash.

Then he thought of all those times when he flew with Toothless. The good old days where Hiccup would just mount the saddle and they'd both take off. The crash landings were fun and Toothless never failed to surprise him. Hiccup remembered fondly about the grass which Toothless got so addicted to, and it worked for other dragons too. He never failed to learn a thing or two from Toothless during these sessions together, be it the reflection, the scratch or the grass. He learned something new about dragons everyday for a week.

As these memories came flooding back to the small, frail-looking boy, he sat down on the wooden planks. He sat down.

And cried.

He was sobbing. This was too much for the boy to take. Toothless had been a big responsibility. He was a dragon. And dragons had lives too. It might seem insignificant the life of one. It might not make a huge difference. However, it makes a difference to the one who has that life. And Hiccup had pretty much sent Toothless's life, along with countless of other Viking lives, on a one-way ticket to Valhalla. He was not ready for that kind of responsibility. He didn't even dare kill an ant, much less alter the lives of five thousand Vikings.

Hiccup rarely sobbed. He was strong. He had determination and perseverance. He only cried when things are turning hopeless. And him crying was a very good indicator that the situation had gone beyond hopeless. This was one such case.

He could have been sitting there for more than five hours, crying his eyes out. When he was finally done, he wiped away the tears and sat there, looking at the setting sun. The voyage had left nearly six hours ago, and them not coming back to Berk after such a long time meant that something bad must have happened to the Vikings, either on the journey there, or the behemoth might have wiped out the entire armada of Vikings. Either way, nothing ended in the people surviving.

_Serve them right, _thought Hiccup. _Serve them right for mistreating me and not listening to me. If they had, this tragedy could have been adverted. Now where are they? Valhalla?_

The Viking boy stood up. He decided that there would be no use crying over spilt milk. After being gone for so long, chances are that the members of the expedition team are dead. They would never return to Berk to tend to the farms or to watch another dragon being killed.

Hiccup wanted to leave Berk. He had suffered too many hardships on this island. He wanted to move to another island and settle down. He wanted to forget about this place. Yes, he had been born here, but he had also been exiled from here, here.

_Fine, you can exile me. I'll just settle down on another island._

He'd be more than happy to settle down on another island. He wanted to forget all those bad memories that this place had brought. He did not want to go to the Dragon's Nest to save the day. No thanks. The Vikings had rejected his help once, he wasn't going to do it again. Risking his life after all they had done? It was a laughable matter in terms of its stupidity.

Sure, he'd miss Toothless and Astrid, but since it was destiny, might as well follow it.

_Every time you step outside, disaster follows! Can't you not see that I've bigger problems?_

Tears started rolling down his cheeks and he ran for the harbor.

_You don't even care about me._

There was an abandoned fishing boat that he could use to row across to another island.

_It's not so much what you look like, it what's on the inside he can't stand._

More tears streamed down the length of his faec as he clambered aboard the ship. He took hold of the oars and started rowing, steering the boat out of the harbor and into the open sea. He may not have been an expert at rowing boats but he had been on enough fishing trips to know how to row and steer a boat. Well, at least the fundamentals.

_You've thrown your lot in with them. You're not a Viking._

_You're not my son._

That gave Hiccup the strength to row the boat away from Berk without looking back. Without regrets. Without ever returning to it.

He's got nothing to lose. Nothing to hide. Might as well get away from this place.

Because that was the way things were meant to be.

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><p>End of chapter 1<p>

I am so glad you lasted this long. Thank you very much.

So, tell me how I did. Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Stay tuned and have a happy April Fool's Day!


	2. That Thin Line Between Life and Death

**Disclaimer: **I do not own blah blah blah, so on and so forth.

All right, here it is. I apologize for the agonizingly long wait. School has been a pain in the neck and I did not have enough time to get this chapter done. But well, I manage to force myself to write this down and I did it.

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: That Thin Line Between Life and Death<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter Tagline: <strong>_Oh, come on. Just DIE already._

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><p>Toothless could not fathom how close to death he was.<p>

It started out as an apparent success in driving away the dragons from the nest for the humans, but now, it had turned into a complete disaster. People screamed. The Queen screeched. Some survivors of the initial assault survived with scratches and was okay, while others died. The red-bearded chief was still barking orders to his fellow Vikings, unaware that it was impossible to overcome this behemoth without the help of a dragon. Yeah right, like one Night Fury could make a difference anyway. But at least he could be of some help. He knew the island like the back of his wings, and was also trying to have his revenge at the bitch.

And he was trapped here.

He had waited for a long time. He waited in vain. No one came to rescue him as the world crumbled. He expected his rider to come along and say 'hi' but considering the circumstances, it wasn't going to happen. He was puzzled by his rider's disappearance. Hiccup had been dragged away by the red-bearded man and was never seen again. A full fifteen minute wait had gone to waste. And now, he was still trapped on the boat, slowly suffocating to death from the toxic fumes that were produced by the fire. It was like no fire he had ever seen or smelt or felt for that matter. It smelt like burnt rubber and dead corpses, but he suspected that it was probably due to the Queen's unhealthy diet of dragons and other stuff.

Shouts rang out from the island as the Vikings held their last stand against the monster. Nothing worked against the tough hide, but the Vikings weren't giving up hope. They hurled objects at it. They fought like heros, except there wasn't going to be any victory for them. A burning wooden pole that was part of the mast collapsed right in front of Toothless in a shower of sparks, and the boat started to lean forward as the stern disintegrated. He had got only five minutes at best before being drowned. Closing his eyes, he submitted himself to fate. There was nothing he could do now at this point in time. The situation was beyond salvage from the moment the Queen had burst out of her "prison".

_Where are you, Hiccup?_

He was partially mad at Hiccup. After all that friendship making thing, he never came to help Toothless at this critical moment. After Toothless saved him back at the Kill Ring, he did not make it a point to explain everything to the red-bearded Viking. All he did was to make a fuss and shout '_Tannlaus!_'. What on earth did _tannlaus_ mean anyway? And then the big bad man dragged Hiccup away. Granted, then man might have done something to injure Hiccup, but Toothless knew that his rider would do anything to save his dragon. Unless, the friendship bond between the two of them had been a complete faux. That seemed like the case. If Hiccup was still on the island they called "Berk", then he would have at least rode on another dragon to arrive here.

They say that when you are about to die, your life will flash before your eyes. But Toothless did not see that happening to him. All he could feel or even see was his own terrified face. His mind was devoid of memories, only filled with sheer, mind-numbing horror. He had given up hope of getting out. And all his life he had no friends. No one to talk to. Even among his dragon tribe, he was feared, despised, and given a wide berth. The children were scared of him. The adults were scared of him. Even the Dragon Queen would sometimes show her fear of him. And during raids, he often operated alone. Because… there was no one who wanted to work with him. So, he did not see the point of reliving his memories anyway.

The shields that were hung on either side of the boat all dropped into the water simultaneously. A large portion of the hull came off, and the boat begun to sink, inch by inch, into the depths of the water. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind, that his fate was already sealed. Toothless was going to die on the 13th of March, 1011 AD.

Then, suddenly, he heard someone call out. A soft voice. And he picked up some movement among the boat next to his right. Something crashed against the boat he was on, and another section of the mast came crashing into the water. He felt someone, a living thing, brush past his flank.

_Hiccup? Is that you?_

So he had finally come. Hope rose within the reptile. He was going to survive after all. Everyone would live and it would be a happy ending to this tragic story. But as he turned his head, expecting to see his small, frail, rider, he was in for quite a shock.

The person standing beside him was not his rider… but someone else. He could not see its face for he could not turn his head further. He knew, from the texture of the Viking's left arm, that this was definitely not Hiccup. He heard it say something in the "Viking language" as he called it, and then it retrieved something from its waist. It was a weapon. So this Viking had come to claim his life. So be it. Perhaps it would be better to have his guts spilled than to drown under tons of water. The former one might even be swifter, for getting stuck under water with no means of escaping when you could swim was a horrifying prospect. The weapon was raised and…

One of the chains fell lose.

_What?_

The other chains followed suit and soon, Toothless was free of his prison. His savior muttered something along the lines of "Ertu tilbúinn, dýrið?" Following which, the person leapt onto the saddle. Hiccup's saddle.

_Oh no you don't._

Toothless shook the person off his back. Even though there was a possibility that Hiccup had abandoned him, the saddle is Hiccup's. Only Hiccup and Hiccup alone, would be able to sit on it, or to give permission to others. He was a loyal dragon, and a respectable one too. The person who just got shaken off got to his/her feet and cursed in a foreign language. Then he/she said,

"Ég er bara að reyna að hjálpa þér, gaurinn."

_I thank you for setting me free, but you aren't going to ride me. I do not care if we are all going to die but no._

The Viking tried to get close to Toothless's saddle but failed overtime. He was way too fast for it. Then, finally, Toothless saw the Viking's face… and his jaw dropped.

_How on earth did you get here?_

If there was one person he trusted at almost the same level as Hiccup, it would be this person. _She _smiled.

"svo, þú ert að fara að láta mig ríða þér eða ekki?"

No time was wasted. Perhaps this was going to be a victory for the Vikings after all. He let her sit on the saddle and get her feet into the stirrup. Moments later, they were in the air, soaring towards the monster that was currently devouring a boat that had somehow gotten stranded on the island.

_Come here, bitch._

The battle went on for more than two hours. And by the time it had ended, it was already evening and countless dead bodies littered the floor. The remaining survivors retreated further into the island, and the boats crumbled into dust. Now they were trapped on this god-forsaken island, with no form of transportation back to their homeland whatsoever. The Queen lets out one final roar, and retreats back into her den, setting up her psionic transmission device, ready to call back her servants. As the night nears, the survivors reflect back on the events that in the day. Four thousand nine hundred and fifty-four of their fellow army had died, which left forty-six survivors. Among which were Gobber, the twins, Snotlout, and Spitelout.

Astrid was nowhere to be seen.

Nobody knew where she went. Except that after her disappearance, a certain Night Fury with a brown colored left tail fin was seen screaming through the air, headed straight for the Red Death. Naturally, the assumption was that the Night Fury was much more dangerous than the behemoth and everyone ducked. A brilliant flash of sapphire light danced across the Red Death's head, and it groaned, loudly. Making a pass over the giant, the black demon turned back towards the Red Death, readying its flame once again. The screech pierced the air, and the survivors watched in awe as the spectacle unfolded in front of their eyes. But this time it wasn't so lucky. A burst of flame found its mark and the dragon screamed, losing control over its flight. Its left tail fin ignited and it sped towards the ocean at an unbelievably high speed, turning into a black blur. Moments later, it crashed and sank out of sight.

The survivors, seeing that their last hope of salvation was lost, did the only thing that was expected of a Viking.

They ran for their lives.

There was no order. No waste of time. No manners. The two thousand survivors of the initial assault ran like uncivilized mad people. There was no room for politeness when you are running for the sake of saving your own life. Another scene of destruction unfolded as the Red Death set its sights on the running people, and blew out another endless stream of fire. The people at the front escaped the inferno. The Vikings at the back of the rampage weren't as lucky. No one lived through the firestorm. As they ran, Stoick broke off the main group and charged straight for the giant. If he was going down today, he would not go down without a fight.

"Come here, bitch!" he shouted, waving his mallet threateningly.

The dragon took a while to respond. But when it did, Stoick wish it hadn't. The huge head seemed to be more interested in the meaty man and chased after him instead. It was due sheer luck that Stoick did not get roasted. Along the way, Stoick spotted more of the spikes that were used as a defensive fence, and plucked them right out of the ground. He hurled them at the dragon, making sure that every shot hit its eye. Some missed and got deflected off the thick hide while others hit home, creating a dull thudding sound. Though the defensive attacks were able to slow the dragon down, it wasn't able to keep it from ploughing forward indefinitely. They were running out of time and options. What if the way that they were running led to a dead end? Then the dragon would have them all in one corner, and they'd be dead.

A roar came and the dragon unleashed yet another stream of fire, still aimed at Stoick. He had to jump out of the way again. Pebbles were sent flying as the impact caused the air to expand outwards in all directions. The Vikings ran forward nonetheless, though Gobber now broke off from the group as well, rushing to his old friend's aid. Fires were still burning and smoke settled over the landscape like the fog that surrounded the island. It was very difficult for the blacksmith to locate his friend, and by the time he managed to see him, Stoick was already up and running, shooting spears meant for the eyes. Gobber grabbed a nearby spear and followed suit. The chief, just noticing that the blacksmith was standing right there, shouted to his friend.

"What are you doing out here? Rejoin the group and get them to safety! I can take care of this myself!"

"I am staying, just in case you're thinking of doing something crazy." Gobber retorted as the Red Death stomped one of its foot down onto the ground, rattling the both of them.

"I can buy them a few minutes if I give that thing something to hunt!" Stoick reasoned.

"Then I can double that time." Gobber said with finality, staring Stoick down with that 'you're-not-going-to-get rid-of-me-that-easily' kind of look. Of course, since when did Gobber stop being so stubborn? Stoick returned the stare and a smile crept across their faces.

"Let's do this then." Stoick said, facing the Red Death. They continued hurling the spikes until they found out that they were short of ammunition. As a last resort, Stoick threw his granite hammer with a lot of force at the Red Death's right eye. Upon contact, the eye immediately burst in a shower of blood. Gobber cheered as they watched the Red Death roar in agony, shaking its head from side to side. Now, all they had to do is to find a way to blind its other eye, and it would be much harder for it to find the men.

But what he did not expect was for its two other right eyes to materialize out of thin air.

"What in the name of Odin…"

They had just ran out of ammunition and Stoick had sacrificed his own hammer to knock out one of the eye, and now two _more_ eyes had just popped out of its head. This definitely wasn't natural. Probably this was not an earthly creature. It couldn't have been. If not, how could it have grown to such a height? How could it have three eyes? How could it even exist?

The Red Death lowered its head and stared at the two men, who were trying their very best to keep each apart from each other. A kind of an evil grin crept across its lips as it bared its humongous fangs, which were the size of a Monstrous Nightmare, and roared at them. They stumbled backwards as the dragon raised its head and opened its mouth, revealing the black hole beyond its teeth. A loud hissing noise ensued as the mouth was soon filled with some sort gas. A single spark, and the plume of fire shot forward at a hundred miles per hour. This time, Stoick did not manage to duck out of harm's way as fast and the result was his right arm getting scorched. The head rotated towards its right and so did the fire. Stoick and Gobber was forced to run where the flame was going, for it was right behind them. That meant that they were running straight for the mountain and they would be forced to turn left, towards where the survivors were running. Gobber turned left. While Stoick turned right. The jet of flame crashed into the mountainside, scorching the rocks as a plume of smoke drifted over to where Stoick was standing. The pungent smell invaded his nostrils and he gagged. This dragon seriously needed to practice some dental hygiene.

"Stoick!" Gobber shouted from somewhere on the other side of the smoke barrier.

"Gobber!" Stoick returned.

"What th' hell are yeh thinking'? Get back here!"

"I am going to lead this monster to the other side of the island! You lead the survivors in your direction!"

"What? Are yeh out of yeh mind? That's suicide!"

There was silence following that sentence. The only audible sounds where that of the screaming crowd and the roaring of the Red Death. There is not enough time left. Then, Stoick finally answered.

"I'll do all it takes to ensure that the remaining survivors will survive. I started this. It is mine to finish."

With that blunt answer, he yelled a vulgarity at the Red Death, catching its attention.

"Go, Gobber. NOW!"

"I do not want the leave yeh."

"Just GO! Go with the men! Stay with Spitelout. Bring 'em to safety!"

"Yeh sure, Stoick?"

"Yes! GO!"

Just as Stoick shouted that sentence out, a massive paw slammed down on the ground in front of him, followed by a roar. He fell onto the ground, shaken by the sudden shaking. If he was going to win this war, he'd have to get some more projectiles that he could use to fire at this beast. He recovered quickly, running away from its terrifyingly huge paw, and to the other side of the island. As he did so, he saw that the fleet of boats that had brought them here, was already reduced to a few pieces of smoldering wooden splinters. Suddenly, he felt himself being lifted off his feet, and slammed onto the ground hard. He had hardly any time to regain his senses when he was lifted into the air again, but this time, it was _really _high up, like ten meters or so, and he was being slammed down to the ground again. He flipped himself over and saw that, to his utmost surprise, that the Red Death was still a hundred feet away. How, then, was it able to lift him up from such a distance?

There was no time for answers, for the Red Death blew out another jet of fire that blocked the creature out of view. As this cloud of death approached, Stoick could not help but feel really helpless. Here he was, the most mightiest of all Vikings, renowned for his many dragon kills, being afraid of a dragon. Granted, it was a huge one, but after seeing that thing kill more than four thousand of your comrades, anyone would get scared.

Wasting no time at all to find a shelter, he spotted one of the odd looking granite structure that was jutting out of the sea, just off the island shore beside the now annihilated fleet of ships, and ran for it. Even though it was only fifty meters away, it took almost forever for Stoick to reach his destination. Even as he picked up speed, time seemed to slow down and his goal seemed farther away, and the flames seemed to be accelerating towards him. What was most scary is that the air seemed to feel like it was going against him, and that his legs felt like lead. No matter how fast he ran, he seemed to be slowing down. At long last, he reached the shelter, the flames narrowly missing his feet by mere meters. It felt so good to be hiding behind the granite column as the flames rushed past both sides of the granite, leaving Stoick untouched. But his sense of safety did not last long. For the next moment, a tremendous force shook the granite, causing the top half of it to come lose, falling towards Stoick. No fire was involved. It was as if the column had just shifted for no apparent reason.

"What the hell?"

He dived out of the collapsing column. Again, he felt like he was decelerating, and the falling rocks were accelerating. Unfortunately for him, he did not manage to overcome the unknown force that seemed to be altering the laws of physics. A granite slab hit his left foot as he was jumping away from the structure and he heard a distinct crack. Pain shot through him as he recoiled, clenching his teeth in order to prevent himself from shouting.

Now, how could he fight that thing with a broken foot?

He needed ammunition. He needed something to throw at the Red Death. Something that could be found in abundance and would be reusable. Something…

_Pebbles._

That was it! Why hadn't he thought of that before? The island itself had already provided them with enough ammunition to last them an entire millennia. Pebbles! They were everywhere. Hundreds of thousands of them, and possibly millions were lying on this Thor-forsaken coast. If only he could get a good aim at the Red Death, then he could hit the eyes, and at least buy him some time.

Stoick's foot hurt with every move, but he could tolerate it. He was a Viking. And he would never submit to pain. Bending over to pick up a pebble, he saw that the monster was closing in on him, baring its fangs and roaring.

_Come on. Come to daddy._

The Red Death was looming closer to Stoick. In a few seconds it'd have its paw over him. It stopped halfway, and lowered it head, like it wanted to talk to Stoick and sneer at him. And that was when Stoick took action.

He arched his body backwards and swung the pebble straight at the Red Death's eye- the one that was just right next to the injured one. The pebble hit the centre of that translucent-black pupil and that made the dragon roar in agony once again, slamming the top of its head against the side of the volcano. Stoick fell down on his injured feet, and he heard another crack that was accompanied by another shot of pain. He cussed involuntarily and was already having difficulty getting back up on his feet. Then, for some inexplicable reason, it felt as if an invisible force was holding him down, securing him to the ground and causing him to go limp.

In his frantic struggle to break free from this unknown force, he found that he could still move his arms. Grabbing a handful of pebbles, he threw them at the Red Death. He repeated this process several times till he finally got two pebbles to the third right eye. As soon as the dragon reared on its back and roared in agony, the force upon him was lifted, and it took him some time to realize that. This monster is going to prove to be extremely hard to defeat. He had never saw such a humongous beast before, and would probably not survive it. He limped off in the other direction, trying his best to avoid the long range weapons that the dragon possessed. He felt a wave of heat crash over him and he knew that the firestorm was back in operation. Does this thing even have a shot limit?

His left foot was killing him. He prayed to Odin that he would not fall down or trip over his broken leg or something. Then, in a stroke of bad luck, he _did _trip. More like slide. Somehow, his left foot slipped over some loose pebbles and, when he could even register what had happened, he was already lying on the ground, with a cloud of noxious black smoke charging straight for him. Even though the fuel, whatever it was, had burnt itself out, the cloud of smoke was still very hot, and the pain in Stoick's foot did not make matters easier.

The smoke thinned out and Stoick could see that the Red Death was not very far from him. Making one last ditch attempt to run towards the other end of the island, he ignored the stinging pain and got up, charging full speed forward, though the dislocated ankle was a huge impediment. A bolt of orangey-red flames hit one of the granite structures a few hundred yards away from him and it exploded, showering the shores with a beautiful pattern of glowing red-hot rocks. He found that he further he ran, the more his vision became obscured by some white fog. At first he could not comprehend what was going on with his vision, but soon he knew. The fog was returning. Or at least, it was present in this part of the island. The roars and thuds of the Red Death seemed distant and far away from him as he made his way through the increasingly thickening white cloud. The place just felt wrong, as if this part was much more ancient as compared to the rest of the island. He stopped for a while to catch his breath and picked up a pebble from the shore, flinging it as hard as he could at the direction from which he had come from for good measure.

After that short break from the marathon, he continued running forward into the unknown. Who knows? Perhaps he might just be running forward and end up meeting the rest of the survivors halfway through.

After all, this _was_ a mysterious island. He did not know for how long he had been running. He had lost track of all time ever since he entered this odd place. All he knew now was that he was running over wet ground. Something that felt like part of a swamp. No, that felt wrong. What could a swamp be doing in the middle of a volcanic island? It is not like mangroves would grow on pebbles, or that a landscape full of pebbles would be able to hold a swamp _without_ the swamp flowing into the sea like a river. The further in he probed, the wetter and muddier it became. Now, the fog was so thick, it was impossible to see things that were more than a centimeter away from one's eyes. Heck, it was even twenty times much more dense than the fog that surrounded the volcanic island. Then, a bolt of realization hit his head.

_Could this be the source of the fog?_

They say that curiosity killed the cat, but he wasn't a cat so might as well screw the saying. He steeled himself and ventured further into the fog. The swamp reeked of dead bodies and manure… or at least that was the only description available from the smell. Stoick hoped that he wasn't stepping on a mashed-up mixture of dead dragon bodies, or dragon manure for that matter. There was an audible squish-squash as his boots made contact with the mud, and his ankle was still hurting him. It was as if someone had driven a six inch metal nail into his ankle, and left it there. The glutinous consistency of the mud only made matters worse, for he'd have to use force to pluck out his feet from the ick, which meant that he would hurt his left foot even more every time he did that.

He had to stop every ten minutes or so to take a sit in the mud and inspect his left ankle. It was already swollen and red. And the smell from the swamp was extremely irritable. It invaded your nostrils and made breathing difficult, which was very uncomfortable for Stoick. He was hyperventilating from the throbbing pain and no he had to deal with the suffocating air around him. He stood up once again, and nearly fell over due to his foot. Walking further in, he started to feel as if he were being watched by something. The hairs on his back stood up, and he detected some movement to his left. He stopped, and turned in the direction of the movement. He felt a little defenceless without his granite mallet, but was well-trained enough in bodily combat to handle anything that might be out there somewhere among the fog with ease.

"Show yourself!" he called out to no one in particular. His voice echoed eerily through the fog. It seemed like this place stretched on forever in all directions. As everything fell silent, he realized that something was seriously off. Something that had been after his life like about half an hour ago or for how long he had been in this fog.

The Red Death was no longer chasing him.

It was when that came to light that he knew that there was something very wrong with this place. Firstly, the odd white fog that was so thick, he could not see anything. Secondly, the swamp. That was definitely not supposed to be on a beach full of pebbles. Thirdly, the smell. It was just weird. Dead bodies and manure. Fourthly, the odd sensation of being watched. Well, the fog is so thick that he doubted a Night Fury would be able to see through it, and yet, something knew that he was here… and could see through the fog. Fifthly, something within the fog had moved. That was a very clear indication that Stoick wasn't the only person in this swamp. The conclusion? It is time to get out of here, double time.

He ran back the way he came from. Or so he thought. It was impossible to distinguish which way was which. Everywhere, the landscape was similar. A whitish fog that seemed to be unnatural, for it was too thick and stationary. He detected more and more movement as he ran in no particular direction. Then, the fog thinned out slightly. Hope rose within the battered Viking chief. He was going to get out of this place after all. But his hopes were crushed the moment the fog thickened once again. This time, it didn't just serve as a visual impediment, it also seemed to slow Stoick down. It was as if a current of wind was going against him, but the fog was as still as ever. The smell of the swamp changed. From a mixture of corpses and manure to a mixture of fresh innards and some herbal infusion which was weird. The water beneath him seemed to act much more like water than mud now, and he could feel some really slippery stuff at the bottom of the water. He really hoped that the composition of the water did not correspond to their respective smells.

It was an agonizingly long run. The pain from his ankle was excruciating. He did not know how long he could last if he exerted himself like that. He could possibly be trapped here for eternity. Then he would collapse from exhaustion, and die from dehydration. He will be immortalized as the first Viking ever to die of dehydration and exhaustion, something that people don't usually die from, save for the Vikings. As he ran, his left foot caused him to slip again. It was one of those slippery things in the water, whatever the hell they were.

He landed on his rump with a huge splash and both his hands to the bottom of the water to break the fall. Now, his left leg felt numb from all the pain. He had heard stories of people dying from pain, and wondered if he continued with this, he would die.

His hands felt around the slippery objects that were hidden beneath this stinking water, and pulled one out. It felt soft and smooth, and shaped like a tube. He held it up with both hands in front of his face but could not see it. Then, the fog thinned a little as if it were allowing him to see better. When he saw what the thing was, he immediately dropped it back into the water with a plop. It also made him move several meters back away from it, stopping to catch his breath. He had seen things like that before, but… in a swamp? Suddenly he felt sick. He must have been sitting on bacteria infested water, and might be surrounded by hundreds more of those things.

It was pink in color, soft and shaped like a tube. What was surprising is that it was so perfectly preserved, like it had only been here for less than a few hours. It was an intestine. Of some living thing, whatever it was. That proved that this place wasn't some swamp. It was a morgue. Some kind of burial site, with its contents straight from who knows where. Stoick immediately got back on his feet. Walking was a pain for him. His left foot was so badly hurt by now that it was impossible to even move a millimeter without being assaulted by a wave of pain. So he limped his way through the now thinning fog. Wait, thinning and then thickening fog. It was like the fog was breathing. Stoick decided that he had enough of this weird place, and trudged on, not knowing where to go. He speculated that he must have been at least five miles into this fog, and was safe from the Red Death. It was impossible to tell whether it was afternoon, or evening, or night, for the light was a consistent odd glow that seemed to come from everywhere.

Then he heard it.

It was a slight whisper, but was so clear it seemed like the person or whatever it was that was saying it was right next to him. It was a soft, feminine voice. He could not tell in which language "she" was speaking, for it was completely alien to him. It sounded like Norse mixed with Latin and some other foreign languages. He could tell that he voice was coming from somewhere in front of him, and trudged on. He probably walked for more than ten minutes, and as he walked farther and farther, the fog thinned out, finally being reduced into a few wisps of white smoke that hung in the air. And in front of him was a sight that he could not comprehend. About an hour ago, he entered the fog on a volcanic island, and now…

He was staring at a valley that was below the cliff that he was standing on. He looked around, and saw that there was no ocean for hundred of miles around. Instead, there was only a mountainous landscape. He was beginning to fear that he had lost his mind somehow. If not, how could he have ended up in the middle of a continent? By now, the whispering had turned from a soft voice into a harsh voice that seemed to come from a male. Stoick peered over the edge of the cliff into the valley below. And then he looked behind him. He was stumped by what he saw. Or what he did not see.

The fog was gone.

All right, fine, maybe the fog being gone was a good thing. But what was most frightening is that he should be seeing the volcano that stood in the middle of the volcanic island that he had come from. But it wasn't there. He looked around frantically for any sign of the mountain, but came up empty. He realized that he was standing on one of the tallest cliffs in the area, and that there was only one gigantic snow capped mountain about ten miles away from where he was standing. It must have been at least ten miles tall itself. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, and a sort of strange aura surrounded the place.

Then there still was this persistent whispering.

Perhaps that was the most mysterious thing about this place. He had a feeling that he wasn't alone. And his fears were confirmed when he heard something behind him. Whipping around, he was just fast enough to catch a glimpse of whatever that sneaked up from behind him. It was a black shape, but soon, it inexplicably disappeared into thin air. He did not even have the time to comprehend what had just happened. Was it some sort of optical illusion? Or was it real? There was no time to answer all these questions for the next moment, something caught his legs. He tripped over and fell on his shoulders immediately. Pain shot up his left leg as he heard another crack, this time, it seemed to have emanated from somewhere above his ankle. What had just happened?

Before he had the time or energy to react, some force rolled him over, and he ended up face down to the ground. The whispering had stopped and was instead replaced by a single articulate voice. And it was speaking in a language that Stoick had never heard before, let alone understand. It sounded rough and raspy, like it was from an old man, but at the same time, the words flowed. He felt something press against his back, pinning him down and rendering him defenceless. No matter how hard he tried to struggle, he was unable to break free of this person's palm or feet. It must have been a _strong_, old man.

"_Ne zhai ze ler zeh shen mou?"_

Stoick had absolutely no idea what in the blazes this man was talking about. Something about the texture of this man's palm or feet chilled him though. It felt rough and uneven, and it even felt warm. _Very_ warm. Too unusually warm for his liking. He had a suspicion that this person was not _so_ human, but was still human at the same time. Huh. How weird did that sentence sound?

When Stoick did not give the attacker an answer, "he" pressed his hand (or foot) harder into Stoick's back, and now he could feel his spinal cord beginning to hurt. He had never been pinned down or humiliated like this before, especially when he had fought and killed hundreds of dragons before this… old man.

"_Wer zhai swer yi bien: Ne zhai ze ler zeh shen mou?"_

What the hell did this man want from him, speaking in an unrecognizable language? And what's with the 'pin-him-down-on-the-ground' thing all about? Where did this man come from anyway? The hand pressed even harder into Stoick's spinal cord, and he fear that it might be broken if it was suffering more of this punishment. The man spoke in that strange language once again.

"_Rou guo ne bu gao sue wer, ren, wer hui huei ler ne."_

The man's head was so close to Stoick now, he could feel his hot breath against the back of his neck. It smelt odd, like a mixture of blood and some kind of fishy smell. Very strange combination of smells that one would _not _expect to find in a human's mouth.

"_Ń, hen hao chi."_

Stoick lay there completely still, fearing what might happen to him next. Then, the man spoke once again.

"_Ne huì huídá wer ma?"_

"What do you want from me, bastard?" Stoick said out loud. He was already losing his patience with this guy, whoever he was. There was no answer, just silence. It was so silent that Stoick could hear his own heartbeat, as well as the attacker's heartbeat. It seemed to be much slower than his, probably about fifty-five beats per minute at best. Stoick could not find any explanation for that. Unless…

He did not have the time to do anything when he felt something close around his neck. Panic flooded through his mind. What the hell is the old man trying to do? What in the name of Odin was going on?

"What the hell are you trying to do?" he cried. Something was definitely off about this man. He tried shouting. He tried kicking, but nothing worked to get the thing off his neck. He could now smell the blood, and the fishy stench. Then, the thing around his neck closed, puncturing his neck. Stoick Haddock screamed in pain for the first time ever in his life. A river of blood was already flowing down from the open wound. The severed arteries poured blood like a fountain, and Stoick felt all his strength seeping out of the wound along with the blood. His mind worked on overdrive as he tried frantically to do everything he could in order to get the wretched man off. Nothing worked. His brain was consumed by horror, and he could not think straight anymore.

At long last, the thing came off his neck, and he felt like he could breath a little again, but the pain and horror remained. Blood was still flowing down his neck, staining the rock floor around him a deep red color. His vision begun to blur and he felt like sleeping. He did not have to wait long, for the next moment, he was being shoved off the cliff and sent on a four mile free fall to the rocky valley below. As he fell, he was facing skyward, in the direction of the cliff. Even though his vision was fast blurring, he could still make out his attacker. He did not know many things about him, but there was one thing he was certain of.

His attacker wasn't human.

That was his last thought before darkness engulfed him.

* * *

><p>End of Chapter 3.<p>

Oops.

Looks like everyone is pretty much screwed. No escape route from the island. And now, someone has died.

End result?

Astrid Hofferson - I'm not going to tell you yet.  
>Gobber the Belch - Well and alive.<br>Ruff and Tuff - Well and alive  
>Snotlout - Well and alive.<br>Fishlegs - Well and alive.  
>Stoick - Deceased (I sincerely apologize if it angered you in some way)<br>Toothless - I'm not going to disclose his current status yet.

I am very sorry if you guys were pissed off by Stoick's death. But that is the way it is meant to be. I mean, this is the unpredictability of life. Who knows? Perhaps I might get knocked down by a car tomorrow. My point is, there are so many things that could happen to you. There is always this possibility. A chance.

All right. If you're confused by the chapter, do not panic. I will explain everything in due time. The origin of the island. The origin of the Red Death. Everything. And the assailant is a dragon. The language he speaks is an ancient language, far older than Draconic, so you cannot translate it in the translator. I do not (wish) to claim any ownership of the language, for it is a modified version of another language (a real one). See if you could figure it out. Nothing significant about what he spoke though, so do not go through all the trouble translating it.

In the next chapter, we're going to be with Hiccup!

Lastly, leave a review! :)

P.S. Be sure to tell me if you got pissed by Stoick's death.


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